


Two Aliens on a Beach

by wretcheddyke



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Capri Sun?, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Ice Cream, Suncream, Vaginal Fingering, Yaz looks after her Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretcheddyke/pseuds/wretcheddyke
Summary: “Just two aliens on a big empty beach,” she thinks aloud.“Exactly. We could be anyone.” There’s something hopeful in her voice. “I could be a human from… Rotherham.” She picks at random and Yaz laughs. “…You could be thousands of years old.”
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Two Aliens on a Beach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



Sand trails into the TARDIS from the Doctor’s comings and goings. Like the entrance to a beach tent, the line between inside and out is blurred by a smattering of glittering pale yellow grains. It’s warm on Yaz’s bare toes and the sun is bright on her cheeks as she exits.

The Doctor is stood admiring the clear blue sky, hands on her hips, in nothing but a dainty white bikini.

“Woaah,” Yaz outright gawps when she sees the sight before her, drawing the alien’s attention. She suddenly feels over dressed in her plain black one-piece.

“What?” The Doctor asks, spinning round with a worried expression.

“Nothing,” Yaz frowns, taking in her pale, lanky form, dotted with birthmarks. It’s not unattractive in the slightest, just… not really her. She gives the impression of a boy forced to dress up by his sisters, awkward and gangling and out of her depth. Yaz decides, after a moment, she likes it. “Thought you’d go for trunks.”

“Thought it’d be rude,” she replies, scrunching her nose a little. Yaz can’t help her eyes flicking down to her breasts for a second, trying not to grin at the idea of the Doctor being unsure of what to do with them. The bikini is a little skewed like she tied it before putting it on but it covers her more or less.

“How very human of you,” she says, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. 

The Doctor seems to flush at that, looking down to her toes in the sand before leaping back into action. “C’mon then, beach gear. Can’t do a beach day without beach gear. I’ve got the best bucket for a sandcastle.” Then she’s traipsing back inside with a friendly pat on Yaz’s shoulder.

“Let me guess, you won first place in a sandcastle building competition on the planet Sandoka?” Yaz teases, giggling as the Doctor’s head pops round the door with a frown.

“How do you know about planet Sandoka? I’ve never taken you there, have I?”

“What? It was a pun on Kandoka.” Yaz blinks, looking at the Doctor’s equally confused face.

“No it wasn’t, it was dwarf planet on the Dokana constellation,” she rambles, disappearing back into the TARDIS. “Terribly violent political uprising in the eighty-seventh century. I never would’ve taken you there.”

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“Ah! I’ve got a deckchair!” She suddenly reappears, her tiny frame mounted with copious amounts of beach gear: chair under one arm, windbreaker, towels and buckets hung about the other. She looks remarkably like a donkey ready for transport.

With the towels spread across the sand, Yaz takes the load off her feet. Sunken to the floor, the Doctor’s legs look unbelievably long. Pale and fleshy and Yaz has a vision of biting them before she pushes the thought from her mind.

“How’s this then? Beach-y enough for you?” She asks, taking the spot on the towel next to Yaz.

“It’s… massive,” she wonders. The beach is deserted, spanning as far as the naked eye can see. The ocean is of a similar disposition, stretching on and on until it kisses the horizon. It makes everything seem small. The TARDIS feels like nothing but a mere toy behind them.

“Meh, I’ve seen bigger,” the Doctor says and Yaz has to roll her eyes. Always bragging. Yaz flicks open the ice box plonked on the deckchair next to them.

“Y’showin’ off?” She asks and shakes her head as she pulls out an ice cream, opening the wrapper with her teeth.

“Maybe,” she grins, happily taking the ice cream from Yaz.

“Do you ever feel tiny when you come to a place like this? All that empty space…” It feels endless, the sheer amount of it. It makes her a spec, makes her life uneventful.

“Not really,” the Doctor says after a second of contemplation. But then, why would it? A life as big as hers.

“It gives me the shivers if I think too hard… like I could lose myself completely.” Maybe a part of it reminds her of being up on the moors.

“Is that a bad thing? Y’could be anyone you wanted here. I mean, you could all the time but it’s easier in a new place,” she says, licking the chocolate from around her mouth. “New face, new place - that’s what I always say. Not that you should get a new face, I’m a big fan of yours.”

Yaz chuckles at that, her ramblings never not enthralling, no matter how bizarre. “Just two aliens on a big empty beach,” she thinks aloud.

“Exactly. We could be anyone.” There’s something hopeful in her voice. “I could be a human from… Rotherham.” She picks at random and Yaz laughs. “…You could be thousands of years old.”

“I could be the Queen of Earth,” Yaz submits, posture straightening at the thought. 

“I’d be your trusty servant,” the Doctor smiles and there’s an odd look in her eye.

“You’d be a rubbish servant,” Yaz says with a shake of her head.

“No I wouldn’t!” The Doctor claims, face contorted with genuine offence.

“Well you’d have to stop answering back for starters.”

“Okay,” the Doctor says plainly and it catches Yaz off guard. She looks meek as she licks the chocolate off her lips again, little pink tongue coming out to taste the sweetness. Yaz swallows as she takes her in, her cheeks flushed under the sun’s rays.

“Can we go for a swim?” She asks hopefully. Something’s shifted in her, Yaz can feel it in the air between them. It’s intense and cloying and elusive but it makes Yaz’s heart beat faster in her chest.

“Later,” Yaz says, watching carefully to see how the Doctor responds. “You’ll be sick if you go right after your ice cream.”

Her lips flatten into a line like maybe she’s annoyed or disappointed but definitely not arguing back. That’s weird. That’s very weird. “Am I allowed another one?” She asks earnestly, the sad little stick devoid of any ice cream in her hand.

‘ _Am I allowed?’_

The phrasing makes Yaz’s breath catch in her throat. _She’s submitting to me,_ Yaz thinks. Silently, she reaches into the cooler for another ice cream, unwrapping it for her like before. _Why did I do that earlier?_ Maybe this has been mounting for awhile.

“Thanks,” she says politely as she takes her treat, squinting at the horizon as she brings it to her mouth. Her lips swell slightly from the cold, turning pink like her cheeks as she smudges white cream around her mouth.

“I’ve never seen someone make such a mess,”Yaz says and she can’t help smiling fondly. Reaching out her hand, she grabs the Doctor’s chin between thumb and finger, angling her face towards her.

“Stop,” the Doctor complains of the manhandling but doesn’t resist.

“Look at me,” Yaz commands. “Kid let loose in a sweet shop, you are.” She swipes the pad of her thumb purposefully over her mouth just as her tongue slips out to lick at the ice cream. It’s wriggly and warm and rough against her thumb and it sends a little jolt right through Yaz. All they can do is stare at one another, a mixture of tension and desire enveloping the air. “…You’re dripping,” she says quietly.

“What?” The Doctor frowns slightly, cheeks flushing deeper.

Cream drips on her leg, running over her knuckles as she stares into Yaz’s eyes. She gasps as Yaz scoops up the drop with her index, running it over the sensitive skin on her inner thigh before raising it to her mouth to lick clean.

Pleased with her work, Yaz turns to crack open a bottle of water from the cooler. She revels in the effect she’s having on the Doctor, treating her like she’s incapable, like she _needs_ Yaz. It makes her feel powerful and confident and unbelievably wet.

“It’s really hot,” the Doctor sighs, letting out a little grunt as she recrosses her legs. “Not used to being this hot.”

“Are you wearing suncream?” She asks, ferreting about in the beach bag for some.

“Nah, don’t need to.”

Yaz feels herself clench when she turns to see the Doctor’s heel pressed against her clit. It’s almost like she rocks against it a few times until she notices Yaz has turned back. When their eyes meet there’s something that looks like panic behind her dark eyes: wide and shy and embarrassed. 

“I don’t want you getting burnt, as pale as you are,” Yaz says cooly, squirting some of the cream onto her fingers. The Doctor gasps again when she rubs it up her leg and the foot at her cunt suddenly moves away like it’s all too much.

“Are your feet ok? They look red,” Yaz observes of her little pink toes, probably from the hot sand more than the sun.

“They’re fine,” the Doctor mutters.

“Lay down.” Yaz juts out her chin to reinforce her command, gently taking her hand as she sits next to her supine body.

“We could take a lilo into the sea. Or the TARDIS could make you a rubber ring,” she chats, watching with inky eyes as Yaz massages the suncream into her palm.

“You’ve gotta learn to sit still and relax, you have,” she says, working her way up her forearm. Her skin is unbelievably soft, cooler than Yaz’s even under the sun’s rays but not cold.

She wipes more suncream over both biceps, smiling down as she hovers above her slightly. Her blonde hair falls back against the towel in a halo and Yaz tries to ignore the way her legs occasionally press together.

“You’ve made a bloody pig’s ear of that,” Yaz scolds when she gets to her pecs. The bikini strap is tied in a horrendous knot, a lumpy thing right at the side of her neck. 

“Sorry - not used to the top half,” the Doctor winces, going a little cross eyed as she tries to look down at her own chest to see. 

“It’s alright, they’re only good for tan lines anyway,” Yaz says. _Am I really doing this?_ Her heart thumps in her chest as her fingers pick at the knot. “Don’t think the locals will mind,” she says as the string goes loose. Then she’s exposed, pink nipples left bare to the endless beach, soft and delicate and kissable. Yaz’s mouth waters and she works down the other arm, ignoring the fact she’s partly stripped and it seems to increase the tension tenfold. 

There’s chocolate on the Doctor’s fingers when she reaches her other hand and without a second thought Yaz brings the digits to her mouth. They taste mostly sweet, mixed with the slight salt in the air and something faintly metallic. The Doctor tenses then melts at the feeling of Yaz’s tongue curling over her finger. She digs her heel into the towel, pressing her thighs together and her eyes flutter shut as she lets out a little sigh.

“They’re invertebrates,” she coughs, her voice is dry and breathy.

“What are?” Yaz asks, letting the fingers drop from her mouth. She scoops up the bottle and squirts out more cream.

“The locals. Like octopuses with shells.” Her breath catches when Yaz’s palms glide right over her bare breasts, down to the bottom of her ribs. Her nipples are hard against her palms and so are her ribs, boney and sharp. Yaz can feel how hard her hearts are beating already. “Half snail, half hermit crab,” she sighs.

“Sounds horrible,” she says, feeling the soft flesh of her belly as she rubs.

“They’re a lovely bunch. Hate the sun though - take to the sea at this time of year.” The vibrations from her voice rumble through Yaz’s hands as she pushes back up over her tits and she can’t quite believe she’s touching her like this. Like she can do this whenever she wants, like she owns her.

“Can’t blame ‘em there, it’s scorching hot,” she says and she pushes her breasts together slightly, feeling the small weight of them. “Good job we’ve got factor 50, as sensitive as you are,” she muses, purposefully rubbing her nipples with her thumbs for just a second before pulling away. It’s cruel and the Doctor’s pleasure-riddled face almost makes her as wet as her desperate, disappointed one. “Your toes are gonna burn if you run about without flip-flops.”

“They’re fine,” she croaks, a little disorientated.

Yaz shuffles down her side until she reaches her feet. She picks up the right one, inspecting it slightly. “They’re pink,” she says.

When she plants a little kiss on the sole of her little toe it seems to send a jolt all the way up the Doctor’s leg. Yaz smirks, pushing another one into the arch of her foot just to see her squirm. Which she does, rotating her thigh to try and put a little pressure where she needs it.

“Making a mess of those and all,” she says, nodding to the little wet patch on her bikini bottoms when the Doctor looks down at her.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” she stammers. Her face flushes red again and Yaz can see her pulses beating in her neck. Yaz drops her foot, sliding up pale legs and nudging them apart slightly as if to inspect the damage.

“TARDIS won’t be happy, all that laundry she does for you,” she tuts, slowly untying the loose ties at her hips. It’s methodical, the strings left undone for a moment to leave her draped in the slip of fabric, one strong breeze away from exposure. She almost yelps as Yaz palms the white fabric covering her mound, she gives her vulva a little squeeze and then removes the fabric like that’s all it was.

“She doesn’t mind lookin’ after me,” the Doctor whispers, her eyes glued to the sky as Yaz takes the last of her clothes. She looks beautiful, flat against the towel fully nude, her skin glossy with the cream.

_She wants to be looked after_ , some voice in Yaz’s head says.

“D’you want your drink?” Yaz asks, wiping the last of the suncream on her palms against the Doctor’s knee as she nods. She does the straw for her, piercing the little metal pouch and handing it over.

She sits cross-legged, all shiny under the beating sun and Yaz doesn’t let her eyes linger on her spread slit too long. Instead, she cleans her hands with water from the bottle.

“Do you mind?” The Doctor asks after a moment, leaving off the clarifying ‘looking after me?’

Yaz shakes her head. “I don’t mind,” she says and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She feels peaceful, in an odd way. Unbelievably turned on, without a doubt, but also at peace. Yaz knows how to be fair, knows how to be firm but kind. She knows how to love like this and it makes her feel new, purposeful, steady.

“Can we go in the sea yet?” The Doctor asks, chewing on her straw.

“I’ve just done your suncream,” Yaz says, sitting back on her palms. “Can you come for me first?”

The Doctor chokes, spluttering on the liquid in her throat as she rushes to answer. “I—y-yeah,” she nods eagerly.

“Come and kiss me,” Yaz smiles but doesn’t move an inch.

She’s tentative. Nervous in a way Yaz has never seen on her before as she shuffles forward, awkwardly putting a hand on Yaz’s shoulder. She kisses her like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to and something about the gentleness breaks Yaz’s heart. It’s not what she wants — she wants to be taken care of. So that’s exactly what Yaz gives her.

In a sudden switch, she pushes her back down against the towel, her tongue pushing forcefully into her mouth. Yaz kisses her deeply till she groans, their tongues gliding over one another maddeningly.

She’s soaked. They’re both shocked at just how soaked when Yaz’s fingers slip right through her folds, her hips almost instantly bucking up into the touch. Yaz has to bite back the desire to swear, trying her hardest to retain her composure for both of their sakes.

“Please,” the Doctor squeaks a little impatiently.

Yaz yanks her hair, roughly forcing her head flat against the towel, eliciting a gasp. Her jaw sticks out and her mouth gapes and she looks unbelievably pretty with her head pinned to the ground.

“You have to trust me to look after you, okay?” Yaz says, slowly circling her clit.

“Okay,” she gasps, attempting to nod against her grip.

“I’m gonna make you come, okay?” She say, more of a fact than a question as her fingers dip down to collect more wetness.

“Okay,” the Doctor repeats, face still contorted with pleasure.

Yaz fucks her fast. She pushes in carefully at first, feeling how tight she is, how much she can take and then when she knows she’s comfortable she fucks her faster than she’s ever fucked anyone. Her hand makes the most grotesque noise as it slaps rapidly against her. The wet sounds and the little breaths in her ear the only noise over the ocean kissing the shore.

“F-f-that’s fast…” She mewls, trying to move her head or wriggle her hips away from the intensity but Yaz doesn’t let her. “I’m…I…”

“I know,” she coos, her fist still tight in the Doctor’s hair as she peppers gentle kisses across her cheek. “I know, it’s okay.” She doesn’t let up her pace for a second. “It’s okay, baby.”

She’s groaning and shuddering and red-faced. When she comes her cunt clenches hard and rapid around Yaz’s fingers and it feels like she asking her to stay.

“We should go somewhere cold next time,” Yaz says, looking down at the Doctor’s disorientated face as she slips her fingers out.

“Huh?” She looks puzzles and Yaz likes this role reversal. Likes it a lot.

“Somewhere snowy or rainy, just us and the storm,” she says, shuffling down her body to sit between her thighs. She shivers when Yaz pushes her knees apart and spreads her labia as if to check her work.“I’d keep you warm under some blankets, ‘cause you run so bloody cold,” she says, dipping down to lick through her folds. She tastes unbelievable: salty and warm and so much like home. “And you could come on my thigh.”

“Mff-You’d let me?” The Doctor groans slightly as Yaz swirls her tongue over her clit.

“If you were good, yeah,” she says between licks of her labia. “Do you like the beach?”

“Yes. I really like the beach. Beach is the best, can’t beat the beach,” the Doctor pants, ribs rising and falling as Yaz’s licks get more and more intentional.

“Say that ten times fast,” Yaz smirks.

“Can’t beat… Oh fuck, Yaz.” Her whole body tenses, words lost as Yaz suddenly sucks on her clit. It’s all so wet, smudging across her cheek and down her chin and Yaz wishes she could live here forever. She sinks into her perfectly, her cunt accommodating her tongue like it belongs there, drawing her in slightly.

The Doctor writhes and writhes beneath her as Yaz laps in earnest. Her thighs tremble and her back arches and then she’s coming again. She fills Yaz’s ears with the most wonderful of sounds as she shivers and collapses.

She looks utterly spent. Only moving to curl into Yaz as she moves to rest on her elbow. The Doctor’s face buries in her neck and her arm and leg wrap around her body. It breaks Yaz’s heart a little. Breaks it because she’s clearly wanted this, needed this, for so long.

They lie like that for a while, two aliens on a beach, with Yaz stroking her hair and the sun warming them. The Doctor’s breath is warm on her neck and Yaz might think she was sleeping if she couldn’t feel the gentle tickle of her eyelashes every time she blinks. It’s nice. Perfect. She feels overcome with a need to protect her every time she looks at her vulnerable, naked body.

She brushes a bit of blonde hair out of her face, suddenly seeing how sedated her eyes look, the usual fire replaced by melted gold. She studies the corner of her mouth and her right eyebrow and her front teeth.

“Y’wanna go for a swim?” She asks quietly.

“Yes.” The Doctor beams, unapologetically. “Yes I do.”

Suddenly she’s all fire again, grabbing Yaz by the wrist to drag her upright before she bounds off across the sand, completely starkers with the biggest smile on her face, waving at Yaz to hurry up.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a gift for TheseusInTheMaze on their birthday. happy b day thee!!! 
> 
> if you wanna join our discord family and are over 21, you can do so here: https://discord.gg/ABZE4P7qzg


End file.
